


On A Mission

by Not_You



Category: Watchmen (Comic), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Body Image, Diary/Journal, Fluff, Internalized Homophobia, Kissing, M/M, OTP Feels, Resolved Sexual Tension, Rorschach Has Issues, SO MUCH SEXUAL TENSION, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-21
Updated: 2015-04-21
Packaged: 2018-03-25 02:50:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3793888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Not_You/pseuds/Not_You
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The one where Rorschach realizes that he's gay for Dan and treats getting with him with the same bloody-minded determination he does everything else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On A Mission

_Disastrous. Definitely homosexual._

Walter stares at the words, defeat sinking in his stomach. He has actually written it down. He's committed now. Fuck. He puts his head in his hands and lets it sink in. He wants Daniel. It had all been building up for months, but he has only put it together tonight. The warmth when his partner touches him to spot him or spar with him or fix his rumpled coat. The way he had described Daniel's eyes three pages ago in this very journal is damning enough. He flips back to look at it anyway, of course. Sitting alone in his tiny walk-up, there isn't much else to do.

_Watches me. Don't mind, though. His eyes are dark and quiet as a place to hide. Beautiful._

He tries not to swear. Rorschach doesn't get to, it would bring the tone of the whole thing down. One of the few consolations of being Walter Kovacs is being able to knot his hands into his hair and rock back and forth muttering 'fuck' over and over and over. There had been hints at Charlton. He had known his lusts weren't limited to women, but he had never expected them to actually latch onto anyone. Men are so disgusting. So poorly groomed and stupid and foul-smelling. And filled with unspeakable desire, just like him. Daniel is none of these things (except the last one) and that's probably what has done this to him. Scowling, he scrawls an addendum:

_Better for him than his other redheaded slut, anyway._

He looks at the words for a long time, then shuts his journal and goes to bed to dream of melding flesh and feathers, tossing and kicking to wake late for work and in an intensely foul mood.

He can't help but watch Daniel after that. He's watching him to make sure he isn't watching Rorschach. Isn't somehow seeing his sin patterned in the blots. ( _What do I see, Doctor? Fellatio._ ) As far as he can, he gives no sign. Daniel doesn't seem to know what walks beside him, what perversions boil behind the mask. Not that Daniel isn't hiding a few of his own. It's always the worst when he comes back from _her_. Italics always present, as if his partner is fucking the White Witch. When he sees the bite marks on Daniel's shoulders he wants to scream. It's not the first time he's cursed his natural talents. 

Walter Kovacs has always had a knack for seeing too much. Like the red lines down so low on Daniel's back that he knows they're only there because she had those filthy red nails dug into his skin to pull him still deeper when they were already nearly one flesh, all wet and tangled and... He punches the wall for no reason and silently dares Daniel to say a word. He doesn't, but there's something strange in the way he looks at Rorschach, and he has the suddenly feeling of a missed lead, of something slipping through his gloved fingers.

_Just realized: too long. Played it back in my head over hustlers, and I swear to God if I didn't know better... Work in six hours._

"Fuck." He puts his head in his hands, feeling the slow throb in the left one. Work is in six hours. And he's exhausted but can't possibly sleep, mind clicking and clanking along like one of Daniel's failed projects. He can't seem to stop, compulsively patching hundreds of disparate moments together only to tear them apart with frenzied mental hands, making new patterns. He's sure he's missing something. Something in the way Nite Owl touches male civilians, the way Daniel's eyes seem almost to glow when Walter manages to say the right thing.

It doesn't come together until he's hunched over a machine, and he almost runs the needle over his hand in shock.

He's sure he'll lose out of the mask ever comes off, but there's more to him than his face. He supposes it's not so unbelievable for Daniel to be attracted to him. He examines himself is his cracked mirror. The face is ugly enough to stop a whole goddamn store window of clocks, but Daniel has never seen it. Or at least, he's only seen the bottom half from time to time, and he shaves well enough to avoid damning red stubble. Covering the top half of his face with one hand, he supposes the mouth is something one could get over. He raises the hand a little, and feels a surge of doubt that Daniel could overlook the nose. 

He sighs, and yanks his shirt off. This is a show Daniel has seen plenty of times, and Walter guesses this is where the attraction is, if it's anywhere. He would never admit to vanity (it would be ridiculous anyway) but his arms are... almost beautiful, even with the freckles. His chest is undersized, but defined. He runs a hand over his belly and thinks about the way Rorschach moves. Daniel has admired his grace. Aloud, even.

_Am resolved. Must investigate further._

He goes slowly at first, just touching Daniel for slightly longer, showing off just a little (never to the detriment of duty, dammit) and watching Daniel watching him.

_All signs very encouraging. Will enter onto next phase tomorrow._

For the first time in weeks, he catches up on his sleep, and doesn't remember his dreams.

He really couldn't have planned it better. Drenched at the end of patrol, he really does have to get out of his wet clothes, and peels off his sodden layers slowly, half an eye on his partner. Daniel putters around with his gadgets with perfect equanimity, until he actually glances up to his partner down to his pinstripe trousers, gloves, and mask. His back is to Daniel as he pulls one glove off with his teeth. It's probably the best possible pose for him, without looking like one. Daniel stares for a gratifyingly long time before realizing it, and Walter smiles slightly, coming to look over his shoulder, wet, scarred skin nearly touching Daniel's back.

"What are you working on?" Daniel is trembling very slightly, and it takes most of Walter's resolve to keep from just pouncing on him and letting the chips fall where they may. Instead he listens as his partner haltingly explains, not really understanding and not really caring, just quietly occupying his space and watching the effects. After a few minutes, Daniel can't take it anymore and stammers something about getting him a towel before leaping up and fleeing upstairs. Walter grins.

"Rorschach?" He's back with the towel, and approaching cautiously.

"Yes?"

_Strange that one set of lips touching another can change the world. Can't shake delusion that everything is different now._

Kisses don't change the world. Moments like this do. Walter is covered in cold sweat, trying to force himself to peel off Rorschach's face.

"Baby, you don't have to do this." Daniel says, so gently that he can hardly bear it.

"Yes I do." He grits his teeth and yanks the mask off, clenching his fists at his sides to keep from covering his face. He hears Daniel move, but a soft kiss on his cheek makes him jump anyway.

"What are you so worried about, sweetheart?" He murmurs, and he sounds so genuinely confused that Walter clings to him.

"Ugly."

"Maybe a little, but not nearly enough to be a deal-breaker."

He laughs, the sound watery with unshed tears. "Telling you my real name. Have come this far."

"You don't have to push yourself, either." Daniel kisses his forehead.

"You deserve to know." He looks up at him. "It's Walter. Walter Kovacs."

Daniel smiles, tasting it in his mind. "I like it." He takes his partner's hands, leading him to bed. "Come on, Walter."

_I survived. I thought I might burn to death or break apart, but I am here to watch the sunlight on his face._

"What're you writing?" Daniel mutters, voice thick with sleep.

"Nothing." He shuts the journal.

"Oh. C'mere." Walter sets his work aside and lets Dan drag him down and kiss him good morning.


End file.
